Reins lifted in spite, a grimace
Blistering the urge to forgive the way
Black changed to gray right before your eyes,
Easing away the pain like, in fading, it might
Be changed to innocence like snow, freezing the weakness
In a heart who bleeds, pouring out tears in crimson
Pools, deep and liquid as rivers and seas
Who keep believing in the teasing sprays,
Wistful, still angry, deep down ~
At the depths where melancholy meets grief
And each memory rains pure defeat,
Aching, lost and dying to be found somewhere
On the road to one moment before the decision
Was made into reality and the reins were raised
Trembling with the darkest rage, gasping
From the insidious need to kill the ache who
In fading, left the hoof print of loneliness all over
The soul who keeps wandering back to that place
For more ~ it beats out a rhythm that might be thought
More tender than the actual beat of its dark surrender
In defeat, the soul quakes and the mind aches
As the heart ~ oh, yes, the heart ~ it simply breaks!
When I fired my gun at a criminal, I accidentally shot an innocent bystander.
I made a horrible mistake, I was supposed to shoot someone else than her.
The person who I accidentally shot was only eighteen years old and I killed her.
The guilt I feel is too much to bear and I resigned, I'm no longer a police officer.
When I shot and killed that girl, it was a horrible accident, I did not mean to do it.
Even though the police academy trained me not to make such a mistake, I blew it.
I shed tears every single day because I feel remorse.
My wife can't take it anymore, she's getting a divorce.
My wife constantly told me to get over it but she was beating a dead horse.
I ruined my life, I've lost my wife and I had to resign from the police force.
When I accidentally shot and killed that girl, it was a tragic thing to do.
If you're a cop, I pray that what happened to me doesn't happen to you.
bring it on
what else have you got
you’re in the mood for beating a dead horse
and won’t give up until you break me
well get it over with
it will take more than
what you’ve thrown at me
so get it on and
give me all you’ve got
how many times have you rained on my parade
you’ve hailed, dumped your snow and sleet
and even aimed at me your thunderbolts
I may be soaked and drenched
darn right I’m miserable
but you’ve not won over me
you’ll never get the best of me
bring it on
get it over with
what else have you got
Read on air by invitation ~ March 7, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 3rd place 2022
Submitted on March 7, 2021 for contest LIFE'S STRUGGLES sponsored by CONSTANCE LA FRANCE - RANKED 1ST
Limitations
"A man has to learn his limitations."
Dirty Harry in Magnum Force!
I like to play big and realize I can't.
I know what it takes for me to post
a poem and do comments.
No ten second jobs here, not ever!
So, I have to stop beating a dead horse
and move to the rear.-))
And enjoy the ride for the time I
have left here!
With regrets,
Panagiota
Your blogs are like beating a dead horse
It's the same old thing over and over again but, you never show remorse,
You write or type each sentence so carefully
To me it shows some one whom is very forcefully,
Reassuring yourself that others like me are the blame
Are you becoming an actress because you seem to be seeking fame,
I guess you feel better after downing another person in your long blog
But, it seems to me you have your head in a fog,
Half of what you is not true or it is spam
You see it doesn't matter to me so frankly my Creeper I don't give a damn.
Written By: Unique Poetry 2015
I try to help
You tell me to stop beating a dead horse
I tell the truth about music
I just want to be a normal child
That's my family, what's yours?
WHO WILL FREE MY SOUL?
Criticism and sarcastic words is all i hear,
Nobody ever appreciates my efforts.
Failure and fiasco is all fear,
Inspiration derived doesn’t seem to comfort.
Mask I put won’t conceal my pain.
Favors made, countless I pray.
I’m being controlled like horse’s rein.
To my oppressors, I am a prey.
Torturing my body will not tame,
The deeds done won’t reveal my compassion.
To go down this way will only embrace my name.
But who ought to test my oppression?
My character resembles a fragment,
Nothing to reform to, my incarnation unknown
Broken inside diversify my temperament,
When I die, will I reincarnate and be renowned?
My purpose in this world is incarcerated.
Confiscating my dreams in contempt,
My dilapidated soul is imprisoned.
Who will bail me out? Oh! Dear, who ought to attempt?
An endeavor to convince of my righteousness,
Is like beating a dead horse.
Crystal washing my mistakes won’t justify my fallibleness,
But will craft my conscience till I passenger the hearse!
By Willem Pietersen
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